<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>When You Smile by evergreenstringbean</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322858">When You Smile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/evergreenstringbean/pseuds/evergreenstringbean'>evergreenstringbean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Roundabout [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Gambling Addiction, Lil meet cute because I said so, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:05:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/evergreenstringbean/pseuds/evergreenstringbean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy just wanted to grab a quick coffee. He didn't anticipate the cute stranger dancing in line.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Roundabout [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When You Smile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey! So this takes place in the Roundabout universe, before the events of the fic takes place. Context is sorta necessary so like,,,mayhaps read Roundabout first?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  Remy woke up with a headache that rivaled any ill-induced migraine he had experienced in his adult life. Fortunately it was not actually a migraine, but a particularly nasty hangover that could simply be solved with a drink once he got to the casino. Well that, and the fact that he had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor and his lights were still on, which only hurt his eyes as he squeezed them shut and aimlessly slapped the tile floor until he felt his sunglasses and pushed them onto his face.</p><p>  He didn’t think too hard on what had happened the night before. He’d gotten accustomed to the fact that he always blacked out and the duration of time between leaving the casino and waking up in the morning wasn’t even a blur in his mind. He’d gotten home, so that was good enough for him. After checking his phone for any messages- there were none, unsurprisingly- and turning off his lights, he stumbled out of the apartment complex and tiredly made his way to the bus stop.</p><p>  Halfway to the bench, Remy decided that he needed to get something to eat. He hadn’t noticed anything before due to all of his focus being on his hangover and getting back to the casino, but he stomach was growling and his throat was drier than a desert. Down the road was a Starbucks, so he decided to run in and grab a coffee and something quick to scarf down so he can continue on his way.</p><p>  The line wasn’t too long, but with every second that passed Remy felt more and more irritated with the music playing over the speakers. It was some pop song that he hadn’t bothered to recall the name of, but regardless it wasn’t helping his headache in any way.</p><p>  However, just a few people ahead in the line was someone who had the opposite opinion. He was dancing along to the beat, his head moving side-to-side and amusing Remy as he moved his sight over in order to catch a better view of him. Normally, such positivity so early in the morning would have him rolling his eyes, but there was something about this dorkish movement that had his eyes glued to it, wanting to step out of line so he could get a better look at whoever was giving him a sliver of joy without the presence of his vices.</p><p>  His head was still pounding though, and that outweighed the curiosity he had for the person in question. He just wanted to grab his coffee and sink back into the casino without another thing to stir up his thoughts.</p><p>  “Hi! Could I get a tea over ice please?”</p><p>  It was that moment that the sarcastic part of Remy’s mind took over.<em> Tea over ice? Who the hell says that? Iced tea isn’t a foreign concept. What a weirdo-</em></p><p>  “Thank you,” the stranger chirped to the barista, turning to step out of a line and take a seat at a table. Remy’s stomach flipped when he finally took in the person’s appearance, pink sweater bunched up at the hem like it was a bit too big on him and sleeves pushed up to his elbows to show the freckles on his forearms. He pulled his glasses off to clean them, but Remy had already taken notice of the spiderwebbed crack on the right lens, something that had the man in line speculating what he’d done to end up with such a large amount of damage to the eyewear.</p><p>  “Sir? Hello! Next customer!” the exasperated Starbucks employee called, showing Remy that he’d been so enveloped in the curiosity of Iced Tea Guy’s life story that he hadn’t even noticed it was his turn to order. He cleared his throat and mumbled out his usual coffee order, handing the girl one of his overly used credit cards before sitting at a table nearby the guy he’d watched in line. Eventually, as the threat of readying orders became closer, he decided it was now or never. He stood and made his way to the stranger’s table. </p><p>  At first, the guy seemed too in his own world to take notice of Remy, but eventually made eye contact and opened his mouth to speak before he was beaten to the punch. “So, tea over ice? I personally like my drinks like my dates. Hot and sweet.” He regretted it the second he’d said it, but hid the part of his brain screaming at him behind his cool demeanor. He’d said it, and he was sure as hell gonna commit to it. </p><p>  “…How’d you know my weakness was cheesy pick-up lines?” The stranger replied, lips quirking up into a smile and-</p><p> <em> Oh.</em></p><p>
  <em>  Oh shit.</em>
</p><p>  Remy felt like he had just fallen into a trap. This person’s smile was the first thing he’d found to fully push the focus of his hangover out of his mind excluding the pounding in his head that still failed to diminish. He couldn’t help but smile back. “There’s plenty more where that came from, doll.” He held out his hand. “I’m Remy.”</p><p>  “Emile,” came the response, returning the handshake with one hand while gesturing to the empty chair at the table with the other. “Care to join me? Or do you have a venture to return to?”</p><p>  Conflicting opinions weren’t common for Remy lately. He usually had a strong opinion on what he wanted to do and therefore did it with no care for repercussions. But right now, with the thoughts of a casino or a particularly adorable guy vacillating in his head, he genuinely had to think for a significant pause before coming to a conclusion. “Uh, sure. I can sit for a while.” He pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose and sat down, flickering his eyes over Emile with the grateful fact that he couldn’t see him checking him out. </p><p>  “Perfect! So Remy, do you how do?” Emile asked giddily, earning a raised brow from Remy.</p><p>  “Eh?”</p><p>  “Do you how do?” he repeatedly just as excitedly, and Remy had to keep a confused smile away by biting the inside of his cheek. </p><p>  “Uh…alright, I guess? Even better once I can get my coffee.” </p><p>  As if on cue, Remy’s name was called right after Emile’s, and the two stood up as Emile held out his hand to stop the other. “I’ll get it! Be right back.” The short time between Emile grabbing their drinks and returning filled Remy’s head with an incredible urge to stand up and leave the coffee shop as quickly as possible. Emile seemed sweet and way too innocent for the whirl-winded lifestyle that Remy was prone to possess. </p><p>  But then, the redhead smiled on his way back to the table and Remy was beyond certain that he wasn’t getting up anytime soon.</p><p>  The next two hours were filled with casual conversation, cartoon references that Remy only understood half of, and back and forth stories of their life. Of course, Remy didn’t mention his affinity for booze and gambling himself into the ground each and every night, but also skirted around questions about his job or home life that would have him lying. Aside from little white lies here and there, Remy wasn’t a huge fan of lying to people, especially those he had a romantic interest in. Mostly because he was a shitty liar, but also because he didn’t have the best long term memory and the feeling of getting caught in a lie was the worst possible feeling he could experience. </p><p>  Eventually, a faint beeping noise pulled Emile out of his tangent of some cartoon- Remy had been paying attention at first then got lost in thought of how cute he looked when his cracked glasses fell down his nose while he spoke- and brought Remy back to the real world as his counterpart looked at his phone and sighed. “I’m sorry, I have an appointment in twenty minutes. I have to get going.” He pocketed his phone and stood from the table, Remy following suit with an offer to walk him out.</p><p>  On the journey to the door, Remy was frantically yelling two differing actions one either side of his mind.</p><p>
  <em>  Ask him out!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Get out of there!</em>
</p><p>  “Thank you for the nice outing,” Emile said with a grin, tucking his hands into his pockets as he looked to Remy for a farewell.</p><p>  “No prob, babe.” Remy sincerely hoped he’d gotten the message that nicknames like those were given to a wide range of people and he wasn’t just being flirty. “…Hey, Emile? I actually wanted to ask you something…”</p><p>  “Hm?”</p><p>  Remy took a deep breath, taking a slow step forward to inch closer to Emile. “…What’s with the ‘tea over ice’ thing? The phrase ‘iced tea’ exists for a reason.”</p><p>  Emile’s breath caught in his throat, letting out a loud laugh to hide the blush that was burning his face. “But then it’s already cold! I get tea over ice so they put hot tea over the ice cubes. It’s a nice blend of warm and cold and it’s delicious.”</p><p>  The level of specificity was so intricate that Remy almost kissed the man in front of him on the spot. But instead, he smiled and slowly slipped off his sunglasses. “How 'bout I take you out someplace a little classier for our next date?”</p><p>  The confidence Remy felt in that moment was probably due to the caffeine finally kicking in, but he didn’t question it for a second in the hopes that he could actually secure an official date with the therapist he’d gotten to know over the last couple hours. Emile had been frozen in place when the question had been asked, but Remy could easily spot how his face had gotten redder. “…That sounds fantastic,” he answered quietly, voice squeaking on every couple syllables. He’d failed to comment on Remy’s eyes, and since they were maintaining pretty immaculate eye contact he knew that Emile had taken notice. That fact that he hadn’t said anything was surprising, and honestly, refreshing. </p><p>  So, as the two parted ways with their contact information saved and plans to arrange a date, Remy headed in the direction of his apartment. He’d managed on the walk back to convince himself that he’d rather get wasted on the couch at home for once than have to crawl on his kitchen floor at four in the morning. He’d later think back to see that as his first subconscious step to getting on the right track.</p><p>  Later, on their second date (first official date, but the two always recount their impromptu Starbucks meeting as their first real one), when Remy lays everything on the line and he and Emile have a long talk on a dark, empty park bench, he thinks about how what he really needed was someone to help him understand happiness without numbness or risk. </p><p>  <br/>
  And of course, much, much later, years in fact, when Remy is confidently sober and still head over heels in love, he sees the opportunity to help a man meekly standing in the doorway of Gambler’s Anonymous, looking eerily similar to his past self. <br/>
  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I worked on the first 900 words for three months then wrote the rest in an hour. Sue me.</p><p>Instagram/Tumblr: @evergreenstringbean<br/>Twitter: @everstringbean</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>